Medieval-esque.

[lararaith]

Premise: Sort of a cross between D&D (which David is trying to get me into) and The Sims Medieval (which I have been playing almost since it came out and I think it amazing) and I think that some of you guys larp, right? Awesomeness. So an original character rp thats set in Medieval times.

Introduce your characters first and we'll get into plot.

Name: Katalina Rosewood
Age: 19
Hair: Red
Eyes: Brown
Occupation: Barmaid/spy/mercenary
Back-story: Sold as a slave by her parents when she was 15, works in buyer's bar and seduces travelers for information. Her master's goal in life is to see good things happen in the world.
Alignment: Chaotic good (The ends justify the means)

[magdalenallewellyn]

Name: Magdalena Katherine Llewellyn
Age: 18
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Occupation: Seamstress, only daughter of a rich merchant. Wizard. (We can have magic, right?)
Back-story: Lives with her father, mother and father's mistress. Considers this to be completely normal. Desperately wants to get away from home and the marriage her parents are trying to force her into.
Alignment: Chaotic neutral (Whatever, as long as its entertaining.)

[oddthomas]

Name: Andre Freidmont
Age: 25
Hair: Brown
Eyes: One blue, one green
Occupation: Tavern keeper, gossip, merchant.
Back-story: Has been on his own since the age of 12 when his parents were killed by bandits in a raid of his home town. Has untrained magical powers that he thinks are an abnormality (Haha, we can have magic if I say so. ) and has never been taught.
Alignment: Neural good (whatever, as long as its good.)

[lararaith]

(Starting. Throw new character introductions in wherever.)

The tavern was packed. Katalina attributed that to the rain that was relentlessly falling outside. In the 19 years that she'd been alive and, more specifically, in the 4 years that he'd been in the city, she'd never seen weather this ridiculous. It was windy as hell, too. Even inside the candles and oil lamps were flickering wildly every time a patron opened the door.

The tavern was full of old oak tables and matching chairs, buzzing with idle talk, the clink of silver on china, the sound of mugs being placed onto the tables. Nearly every patron had a sheathed weapon. It was a dangerous world lately.

Katalina Rosewood stood at the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area, patiently waiting on drinks. She idly played with the end of her long red braid, running her finger along the black silk ribbon that twisted through the strands of hair. The black silk matched the ribbons on her red and gold corset, which she wore over a low cut peasant blouse and a flowing black skirt. Invisible under the skirt was a pair of black knee-high boots, each of which hid a sheathed knife, which were part of a matching set with the one hidden inside the back of the corset. The throwing daggers hidden up her sleeves were a matched set as well. One could never be too careful.

She glanced up at the man behind the bar, wondering what was taking so long. Her master, the man to whom he parents had sold her when she was fifteen looked up at her and smiled slightly. Long brown hair fell over his forehead as he stuck a long silver spoon into a crystal goblet and stirred the mixture, talking extremely fast to the man he was mixing the drink for.

She smiled vaguely back, fascinated by his eyes, one gold and the other sea green. Not that she had ever seen the sea to compare. He was easily the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. She supposed that it was one of the reasons that she listened to him and did what he wanted. Besides the fact that, technically, he owned her. Her parents had been poor. They'd thought that this would give her a better life. Perhaps it had. She crossed her arms, knowing after four years to be careful of the hidden daggers. She'd cut herself more than once when she'd first started wearing them.

She turned back to the tavern, eyes sweeping over the occupants. It didn't seem like anyone too dangerous was in attendance tonight. She must have spaced out, staring at the patrons, because the hand on her shoulder made her jump. She whirled around, hand automatically reaching for one of throwing daggers. A hand on her wrist stilled her movements. "Darling, really," her master's calm voice said. He smirked down at her. She stared at him and couldn't help gaping, even after four years. He was a tall man in black leather pants, a matching vest and a blood red silk shirt. "Don't stare," he drawled. "Here." He handed her a large crystal goblet filled with dark a dark red wine. "Go sit down with the gentleman in the gray cloak. Give him this. Mention the shadow council. He'll talk."

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, master," she muttered. She'd never managed to convince him that the formality wasn't necessary.